Watchdog
by GealachGirl
Summary: Stiles sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of a werewolf pack. That's finally life/species-threatening. (Sterek. T for language and some situations. It was supposed to be a one-shot, then I noticed all the details that I needed to resolve and the story grew a lot.)
1. Chapter 1

~Prologue~

Something was wrong. That fact was obvious to the wolf as he moved through the forest. The sounds of fighting and running from the others in his pack were in his ears, but his focus was on one scent, a scent he hadn't picked up in a while. He followed the smell, and his own instinct, to a partial clearing in the forest, quickly finding the reason for the wrong.

A boy, merely a teenaged human, was lying on his back, unconscious. The wolf padded forward, keeping tight rein on his immediate whimper until he was closer. As he approached, he stretched his neck toward the still, silent teenager and inhaled. Relieved when he smelled that the boy was still alive, he moved closer to examine the human.

The teenager had blood on his jeans from a gash underneath and his head was bleeding. The wolf growled and moved closer, nosing at the human until he was satisfied that the boy's life wasn't in danger at the moment. His growl morphed into a small whine as he nosed at the boy's head, lifting it off of the ground. The wolf continued forward until the boy's head rested on his snout and he had the boy almost in a sitting position.

The snapping of a branch made him drop his concern and whirl, snarling. More wolves began to move into the clearing, their purpose clear. He moved back so he was standing over the boy and bared his teeth, releasing a louder snarl. The others would have this boy over his own dead body. He crouched and felt the hair on his back rise as another growl rumbled in his chest. One of the wolves dared take a step closer and he turned, snapping his teeth and making the other wolf back away.

The wolf feared that his warnings wouldn't be enough and he would have to risk the human by fighting the other wolves away. His fears were relieved, though, when more branches snapped and he was joined by his pack.

One of his own pack members stopped by the boy and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. The wolf moved off, allowing the other to take the boy away to safety. He then turned to join the battle.

**More to come, but please let me know your initial thoughts, I do really value them. **


	2. Chapter 2

"Scott, I'm fine, just leave me alone," Stiles said as he impatiently pushed his werewolf best friend, but Scott didn't move because he was stubborn and much stronger than Stiles.

"You've never been fine, dude." Scott reclaimed his seat on the edge of Stiles' bed and they looked plainly at one another. The staring contest was broken when Stiles sighed in exasperation and threw himself back into his pillows.

"I fell in the woods and hit my head, that doesn't constitute bed rest," he complained, staring at the ceiling.

"When you're unconscious for more than an hour and almost definitely have a concussion, it does," Scott replied and Stiles felt the bed shift as his friend lay down beside him. "You're lucky Derek found you when he did because those other wolves were right on your tail. More showed up when we were busy fighting and you'd probably be much worse than concussed if Derek hadn't been there."

Stiles propped himself on his elbows and frowned down at Scott. "You keep telling me that it was Derek who saved me. How did he do it? And why? It doesn't make sense."

Scott's eyes were closed and his hands were behind his head. He simply shook his head and didn't open his eyes. "He's the Alpha, dude. I'm sure it's because you're pretty much part of the pack. Although it could also be because he wants to be the one to kill you."

"Screw you, dude." Stiles smiled and flipped one of the pillows onto Scott's face, leaning on it and rejoicing in the other boy's immediate reaction even if it made his fun short lived.

* * *

The pack meeting the next day was exhausting because Stiles was the sole topic of discussion and he may have handled it better if he hadn't still been concussed. Maybe not. It was up in the air.

"So, you're saying that Stiles is the reason they're still here?" Erica asked, not failing to make Stiles feel bad even if she didn't mean to. Across the room Derek nodded.

"Great fucking job, have you ever considered not being a screw-up?" Jackson growled in Stiles' direction.

"Have you ever considered fucking yourself?" Stiles grumbled under his breath. Of course Jackson heard it and launched himself off the couch, only to be caught by Scott.

"What did you say?" he growled around Scott's body. Stiles returned the werewolf's gaze steadily, fighting to maintain nonchalance.

"Enough!" Derek commanded, still leaning against the wall, but his intervention made Jackson sit back down and Scott rejoined Stiles on the couch. Derek was glowering at Jackson and spared Stiles a glare before redirecting his attention to everyone else. "Stiles needs to be monitored because this other pack can't get him. I'm talking about around the clock coverage. Scott, you're going to stay with Stiles at all times, no going off with Allison. Along with Scott, each one of you is going to take a shift to make sure that nothing happens, watching from afar." That order was followed by groans, ceased only by Derek's growl. "One person will cover at night, all night, and that will alternate, since Stiles is relatively safe at home." The Alpha looked around. "No arguments."

Everyone glared at Stiles and he shifted a little bit, keeping his feet up on the couch and his face behind his knees. He could feel Scott's unhappiness, but the other teenager still shifted closer to Stiles, offering the little protection he could. Then Stiles decided that he'd had enough and he was suddenly standing, though he didn't remember deciding to do so or the actual act.

"No."

The betas turned their glares away from Stiles, redirecting their eyes to Derek in expressions of mixed shock and anticipation. The Alpha stopped and turned back to look at Stiles, obviously bristling, and it didn't help when Stiles didn't back down from the warning.

"No. I don't need to be babysat. I'm not some stupid little kid who's going to take candy from strangers. I can handle watching out for yet another pack of crazed werewolves."

Derek's responding look was dangerous. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he said quietly.

"This is ridiculous, I'm not helpless, and-"

"Yes you are! You're the very definition of helpless. Stiles, this pack wants to study you. They would have passed through if they hadn't seen you, but now they're interested and they aren't going to leave until they understand what you are. This pack, though, they aren't going to worry about taking you unharmed. They won't kill you, but they won't hesitate to hurt you, maybe permanently." Throughout the explanation, Derek had steadily gotten closer so he and Stiles were standing closer than Stiles was accustomed to.

"Like you care," he spit, "And how the hell do you know what they're going to do or what they're interested in?" Stiles ignored the chill that went through him at Derek's description of the new danger. He tried to imagine losing a body part, like an eye or a hand, but he didn't get very far. As he looked at the Alpha's impenetrable expression, he took a step back. "You know what? Fine, do whatever you want. It's not like the objections of the puny human are going to do anything." Then, again before he could think about it, he left the room and the house, stalking back to his jeep, inferring that as his input was now useless, so was his presence.

Scott was right behind him and he got into the passenger seat just as Stiles turned the keys in the ignition. Loyalty hadn't been Scott's best trait since all of the werewolf stuff happened, so it was probably Derek's command that Scott was to never leave his side that compelled the other teenager to follow him. Stiles hit his steering wheel in frustration and glared out at the road, ignoring Scott's concern.

His dad's cruiser wasn't in the driveway and Stiles made note of it as he pulled in. Scott followed him silently and simply watched as Stiles pulled things out to make himself dinner, and figuring that he should probably make Scott some as well. Stiles wasn't completely sure that the other teenager deserved his cooking, but he supposed that he would be an awful person—and not to mention friend—if he neglected his reluctant guest.

"Oh, dude, you don't have to do that," Scott protested when Stiles slid a plate across the table to him.

"Why, because it makes you feel guilty about not wanting to be here?" Stiles tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he really did. Scott's sigh was enough of an answer for him. "Oh, come on, dude. It's pretty obvious. I don't have to be a werewolf to pick up on it. Look, I'm home, I'm safe, and I apparently have another guard dog right now, just go out and be with Allison, I'm not going to leave the house again tonight."

At least Scott had the decency to look conflicted before he left. Stiles sat down at the table with his dinner and watched his best friend run to get to his girlfriend's house. Passively putting food into his mouth, Stiles wondered which of the pack was outside, ready to watch the house all night. It wouldn't be Jackson, he knew that much.

When he was finished eating, Stiles put his dishes away and cleaned up after himself. He then headed up to his room, not feeling like doing anything other than sleep. His head was still bruised and it was making him tired, and he simply wanted to put the day behind him and not think about the new threat affecting him specifically.

The gash on his head wasn't as big or as deep as everyone had originally thought. It simply bled so much because it was a head wound. His leg was a different story, though, and he hissed as his jeans rubbed against the bandage stuck over the damage. Stiles changed the rest of his clothes and buried himself in bed, shutting the bedroom light off.

Stiles remembered enough of that night to know that he received the werewolf claws as he ran in the other direction from the wolf that ambushed him. Everything had been alright, despite the fact that he was being chased by werewolves who could run faster than him and he had little chance of leaving the situation without major harm or species change. He'd been able to hear the sounds of the pack buying him time and he'd only run into a few more situations that almost killed him. Stiles had been knocked down a few times and had subsequently hit his head on the ground, but the tree branch that appeared in front of him as he checked behind him had put the icing on the cake for his brain's capacity for damage before shutting him down. He remembered falling to the ground as his vision got darker and he'd barely managed to turn so he landed on his shoulder before blacking out entirely.

Stiles winced at the memory, but breathed and closed his eyes, willing everything to go away for a few hours and leave him in peace.

* * *

The morning had been a little rough as Stiles had been woken up by insistent pounding on the door, resulting in pounding in his head. Scott was there, bright and early, for babysitting duty and he let Stiles know that Erica was going to be tagging along with them, but out of sight.

Stiles had nodded his consent—not that it mattered—and stepped aside to let the other boy into the house. For whatever reason, Scott had looked uncomfortable and Stiles had asked, to lighten the mood, if it was because his best friend was looking at a condemned man. All he received was a reproachful look and a mumbled reprimand about not saying that kind of stuff.

In the kitchen, he'd found a note which led to what the two—three—of them were doing: Stiles, I have to work and we're running low on food. If you get a chance, go to the store because I'll probably be working late again. –Dad

"Right so, do you see the brown rice that has some special seasoning included in the box?" Stiles asked, holding the list and scanning the shelf in front of him. Scott was doing the same, hands in his pockets, and he shook his head.

"What's it called?" Scott asked, still looking at the shelf.

"It's some kind of teriyaki stuff I think. Here," Stiles presented the list and Scott made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Oh yeah, I saw that in the last aisle." Stiles nodded as Scott left and began searching for the next item on his list. He was interrupted when he was grabbed by the back of his shirt and slammed into the other shelf, causing a few packets of Ramen noodles to fall to the ground.

In front of him was a pretty girl with brown hair, clutching him now by the collar and holding him to the shelf. Stiles knew immediately that this was one of the wolves from the other night and his stomach sank, prepared to be dragged out of the store and given to the alpha of this rival pack, then who knew what else. He tried to move a little, but her grip was strong and her body had him caged in quite effectively.

The girl seemed to evaluate him for a heartbeat before smiling faux-sweetly. "Remember me?" she asked, putting her free hand on Stiles' leg, right above the bandage.

"I don't know why you have to ask when you already know from my increased heart rate at seeing you. Of course that could always just be my shock at being thrown against a shelf, but you'd be surprised at how little I'm shocked by being shoved against things." He shut his mouth.

She leaned in and flashed her extremely white teeth. "You're not going to get away this time."

"Right, I get it, you're going to drag me away to your leader and then you'll have whatever it is that you want from me. Yelling and struggling is pointless, blah, blah, blah. I will warn you, I am protected and I've got a whole pack of werewolves that will hopefully come after me."

"Oh, we know all about that, but we don't want to turn you just yet, we're still investigating. I'm a warning. When we come back, you won't escape." Her eyes flashed yellow and he felt his heartbeat accelerate.

"Could you give me a time range for this big return? And not one of those bogus ones that cable guys give." Stiles had no idea where Scott or Erica was, but he knew that he was on his own with this.

The werewolf girl flashed him another smile-threat before letting him go and disappearing. Stiles stumbled forward as he was no longer being supported and clutched at his chest, right above his rapidly beating heart. There were little holes in his shirt from the girl's claws and he moved to the cart, clutching at it to keep himself upright.

Suddenly, Scott and Erica appeared, looking alarmed. "Stiles? What happened?"

"Oh, you know, just encountered a werewolf who works for a guy that's pretty fixed on acquiring a Stiles. Not right now though, they're going to come and get me later." He still felt a little dazed and he was aware that he was staring into space.

Scott and Erica exchanged a look before refocusing on Stiles. "One of the wolves from the other pack was just here?" Scott clarified.

Stiles snapped out of his staring spell and grabbed the collar of his shirt, thrusting it in Scott's face. "Yes, Scott, the girl who ripped my leg open was just here to let me know that they're not done with me yet. She said that they'll come back and that I won't get away from them when they do."

Erica grabbed Stiles' arm. "Let's go, we have to tell Derek about this." His heart sank.

"Yay, another meeting about how utterly helpless and useless I am. Sourwolf's going to be so happy ."


	3. Chapter 3

"What?" Stiles had been right about Derek being happy to hear the news. The Alpha seemed shocked initially, but his expression quickly morphed into something resembling horror and now he looked severely aggravated. He was glaring at Erica and Scott as they recounted what Stiles had told them and the line of his shoulders was tight. Why Stiles wasn't talking, he wasn't sure, but the betas had insisted that he let them talk.

"One of the members of the other pack threatened Stiles in the grocery store," Erica said again, hesitantly. Derek shot her a glare.

"Where were the two of you?" he asked through forced calm.

"I kept my distance, like you said, and didn't notice her until I heard Stiles' heartbeat stuttering when she left."

"I was just a few aisles over, grabbing something. I'd been gone for a few seconds at the most."

The two betas spoke simultaneously and Derek sighed. Stiles wondered why the Alpha cared but didn't think now was the time to ask him. Instead, he buried his hands in his pockets and looked around the room with renewed interest as Derek stared down his betas, obviously trying to think of how to word his next order. Stiles simply let his mind wander and hoped that the new command didn't restrict his freedom any more, though the possibility of that was debatable.

"Stiles."

He snapped out of his head and refocused on the other three people in the room as they were all focused on him. "Yes. And no, before you ask, I have absolutely no idea what you just said." Derek huffed and left the room, followed by Erica. Scott just looked at him in exasperation. "I don't see why it's important that I know what you said since no one seems willing to enlighten me."

"Derek's going to call the others. We're having another pack meeting about what happened," Scott said, turning in the direction that the other two disappeared in.

"Fantastic," Stiles sighed, following right behind.

He waited glumly, leaning against the wall, as everyone was contacted and started showing up. Boyd and Isaac seemed confused, while Jackson flashed him a glare. Everyone filed into the room and sank into what furniture was available, looking to Derek for clues about what would happen next. Derek simply nodded at Erica, directing her to replay what had happened at the grocery store.

Silence fell when the story was over. Stiles could see everyone working over the threats of the rival wolf and what that implied for the pack. Once they were done, all eyes turned to Stiles and he met their gazes steadily while twisting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

"So, basically, we need to figure out what to do, now," Scott said, finally breaking the silence and stating the painfully obvious.

"Thanks McCall. I say that we give them Stilinski. It's not like he's one of us, what's keeping us from just handing him over?" Stiles tried not to flinch at Jackson's words. His failure earned him a smirk from the other teenager and Stiles grit his teeth, refusing to say anything.

"You know that's not an option," Derek growled.

"Why do they even want him?" Boyd asked. All eyes turned again to Stiles and he kept himself from hunching his shoulders and burrowing into his hoodie. He knew why, but the previous day it seemed like Derek knew why, too, and Stiles refused to be the one to inform everyone else.

"Stiles?" the Alpha encouraged, though it was delivered in the tone that suggested no argument. Stiles took a deep breath and looked up at all of the other werewolves, pushing away from the wall so he was standing straight and ready to meet the barrage of anger that was going to, shortly, be coming his way. Every eye in the room watched him intently.

"The other werewolves told me, the first time they confronted me, that they're interested in me because I'm human. Apparently they've been watching the pack for a while, because they saw me, and were dumbfounded to see a human in the middle of a pack of werewolves." What Stiles didn't say was that the other wolves were also looking for more pack members because they'd recently lost several. Since Stiles was a human, he wasn't really a part of the pack and the new wolves could bite him whenever they felt like it.

Surprisingly, his explanation was met with silence and Stiles felt his breath—the one he'd been unconsciously holding, evidently—rush out of his lungs. Finally it was Isaac who spoke.

"They're just interested in you? That's why they're harassing us?" He looked doubtful, but he didn't outright question the explanation.

Derek sighed. "They want to turn him. He especially caught their eyes because he's a regular human and he's in the middle of a pack of werewolves regularly. I think that they've been watching to try and understand why he hasn't been turned yet and that they've held off turning him themselves while they looked for that."

Stiles had come to that conclusion about the other pack's hesitation for himself, but hearing it acknowledged by someone else drove the fact home. They were looking at him and wondering what the hell his problem was that made the wolves he spent all of his time around not turn him. Evidently, though, the fact that he was allowed to stick around was something.

The rest of the meeting consisted of arguing over what to do about Stiles' security, but he'd checked out. Stiles couldn't exactly name a reason why the conversation about his safety disinterested him, but his mind refused to focus and instead made the decision to dance to other topics completely irrelevant to the current situation. Distantly, he figured that it was some kind of coping mechanism being employed so he didn't have to think about his own mortality.

Later, something had been worked out and from what Stiles gathered, it was the same thing that they'd been doing earlier. So, Stiles was able to go back to the Jeep without having anything new to think about and all of the old worries still in place. And he was worried because, despite being surrounded by incredibly strong supernatural beings, none of them seemed to actually be concerned about what happened to him. Sure, they didn't want him in the hands of the other pack, but that was—as far as Stiles could tell—only because that would be a major pride blow.

Once home, he found that his dad still wasn't there and Stiles wasn't in the mood to do much but shower and go to bed. He poured a bowl of cereal for dinner and finished it without tasting anything. Upstairs, he got ready for bed and found himself under his blankets and with the light off earlier than he'd been able to recently. It wasn't normal. A teenage boy like him should be out partying on a Friday night, but Stiles wasn't allowed anywhere without a babysitter at the moment and the weight on his chest made the idea of movement seem like an expedition to the sun.

* * *

Barely conscious, Stiles could tell that he was thrashing around in bed, the blanket getting twisted up in his legs, a thin sheen of sweat sticking his clothes to his skin. Then, suddenly, he burst into full consciousness and sat up with the force of his exit from sleep. His breathing was heavy and irregular and his heart was beating too quickly.

He had that moment to identify what was going on before the weight he'd felt on his chest earlier suddenly dropped, making his ribcage cave in. Feeling the first icy wave of fear wash over him, his skin started to prickle and he began gasping for breath. Slowly and amid trembling, Stiles laced his fingers together at the back of his head and put his forearms over his ears so his elbows were sticking out in his vision. He lowered himself back to the mattress, lying on his side and curling up as he sucked in oxygen and felt his heart racing as if it were trying to escape from his chest.

In the blink of an eye he'd gone from nightmare to nightmare. The only difference being that he wasn't actively running from wolves in the waking one.

Distantly, Stiles heard footsteps but he couldn't decide if it was coming from the hallway or the roof and it was hard to hear past the sound of his heart in his ears. He curled up tighter and grit his teeth as the walls started closing in around him and he fought against the feeling of being smothered. There was a cracking sound then, and he was semi-aware of a person settling on the floor in front of the bed. The sound had come from the rooftop outside of his window then.

"Stiles." The voice was quiet and urgent, but not rough, even though it belonged to the alpha werewolf who seemed to only tolerate him at best.

He knew what the tone was supposed to mean, but Stiles couldn't bring himself to uncurl, open his eyes, or remove his arms from around his head because, if he did, something bad was going to happen. Everything that was spiraling around was going to strike if he moved in any way.

"Stiles." Derek sounded more concerned now and he moved closer, dropping to his knees beside the bed. Stiles could tell because the voice now sounded like it was coming from in front of him rather than from above his head.

"Go away, Derek," he choked out between gasps, still shaking. He knew that the werewolf would understand what he was saying even though it was buried in the pillow and his arms.

The room was silent and still again and Stiles curled up tighter, trembling more violently after being struck hard by another shot of wild fear. The sensation was cracked when Stiles felt a firm grip settle on each of his wrists, and it didn't take Derek much effort to pry Stiles' hands apart and guide his arms away from his head. Stiles knew it was pointless, but the panic rushed at him mercilessly and he fought with everything he had to reclaim his arms so he could protect himself. Derek was determined, though.

The werewolf let go of Stiles' wrists and put his hands on either side of Stiles' face before Stiles could replace his arms. Stiles let his eyes open then and he was unsurprised to see red across from him. What he was surprised to see was the softness and the concern inside of the color. The red got a bit brighter as Stiles felt the panic leak out of his body and, soon, his limbs were still, his pulse had settled to its normal rhythm, and breathing had returned to his unconsciousness.

Stiles sat up and watched the red bleed out of Derek's eyes and they returned to green. He tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind and Derek beat him to thinking of something.

"What happened? Why were you having a panic attack?" The firm authority had been reestablished in his tone, but Stiles thought that he could hear the slightest sound of worry. It was gone in the next moment, though, and his satisfaction at hearing it disappeared. "Stiles, what's going on?" his tone was more urgent and demanding now.

Stiles shook his head, looking down at the blanket pooled around his hips. "Nothing. Nothing happened that you have to be concerned about."

"You just had a panic attack, obviously there's something that you're concerned about. Tell me what it is." The command in Derek's tone may have made anyone else flinch, but Stiles just shook his head again, unable to ignore the slight burn of anger in his chest.

"Nah, just leave it alone." He lay down, pulled the blanket up to his chin, and turned over so he was facing the wall. "You don't really care anyway," he grumbled under his breath, forgetting for one fatal moment about the supernatural gifts his guest owned.

One strong hand caught him on the shoulder and turned him back around. Irritated and growing closer to angry, Stiles surrendered to the motion and glared at the Alpha when their eyes met again. Derek only leaned closer, threat apparent in every line of his body. "What threw you into a panic attack?" his voice was low and Stiles could tell that he was close to losing his cool.

It was now Stiles' turn to beat Derek to that, though. He sat up, the blankets falling back to his lap, and he fixed Derek with his hardest look. "What do you care? What the hell does anyone care? Look at me," he gestured to himself, "I'm fine. No bleeding, no scales, no fur, nothing out of the ordinary, I'm conscious, and I don't have any broken bones. Physically, I'm absolutely fine, and that's all any of you cares about anyway. As long as my body's intact, what the fuck does my mental health matter? I may be falling apart in my head, but I'm still walking and talking and saving my friends from supernatural danger, even though they're supernatural creatures themselves and I'm just a human." His chest was heaving again, but fear was the farthest thing from what he was feeling.

Stiles refocused on the man kneeling on the floor in front of him. Derek seemed taken aback, his face wiped clean of the previous traces of urgency and whatever vague concern Stiles' may or may not have seen. The man blinked once, then he looked again at Stiles and a new emotion had taken over his eyes, this one beyond Stiles' decoding abilities.

Derek leaned forward a little bit, bringing their faces level with one another. "Stiles, tell me what caused the panic attack."

All hope that he'd finally gotten through to someone crashed and burned right there. Stiles bit down on his anger this time and simply looked back at the Alpha, trying not to visibly seethe. Their eyes stayed locked together and Stiles could almost feel Derek's stubbornness wrestling with his own. He said nothing and glared back at the other man for a minute or two. Assuming his point had been made, Stiles closed his eyes determinedly, lay back down, and pulled the blanket back to his chin to resume sleeping, trusting that the werewolf would show himself out.

Stiles was actually very surprised when Derek didn't grab him again or make any move to convince Stiles to tell him what happened. He wasn't surprised that the wolf hadn't left, though, and, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into his back, Stiles repositioned himself, burrowing deeper into the mattress and the pillow. He willed his mind to shut off and let him sleep, but it seemed determined to bother him, and if making him feel stripped raw and absolutely helpless wasn't going to work, then it would have to keep him awake.

As with other nights that followed this thread, Stile's sighed and shifted positions again, hoping to find the magic one that would soothe his mind and make it leave him alone.

"Stiles." The teenager in question paused a moment to consider his response and settled on ignoring the voice behind him. "Stiles." Obviously that wasn't going to work.

"What the fuck do you want? I'm not telling you anything so you can give up interrogating me now." Stiles made the mistake of opening his eyes while delivering his retort and he was instantly stuck in place by the sight of green being invaded by red.

His eyelids started to grow heavier and his neck was suddenly doing an awful job of supporting his head. Stiles found himself lying back down and his head was on the pillow before he realized exactly what was happening. He snapped upright and glared at Derek. "No, no willing me to sleep with your stupid alpha werewolf powers."

"Sleep," was all Derek said and he was still looking at Stiles, eyes pure red and fixed. Stiles found the distance between his body and the mattress decreasing while his eyelids drooped. His head settled on the pillow and this time the supernatural power-made sleep was impossible to fight, so his eyelids dropped closed and he was asleep in seconds.

* * *

Stiles woke up on his own for the first time in weeks. At first he was surprised and a little worried at the calm, natural awakening, but then he remembered that all of the danger was focused around him this time so there was nothing for him to figure out or work on and he was relatively in the clear until the next move by the other pack. Not that there was much he could do anyway. Then, the smell of coffee hit his nose and all other thoughts vanished from his head.

The beautiful scent was coming from his bedside and his wondering eyes lit on a black coffee mug with a bottle of creamer beside it on the bedside table. Stiles was quickly kneeling and reaching for the mug of morning bliss. Settling against the wall his bed was pushed against, Stiles added a splash of creamer and took a long, steadying drink of not-black but not too-sweet coffee.

Then he noticed the dark form in his desk chair and he almost had a heart attack. Stiles managed to not spill any of his coffee, but he didn't manage to not stare at the Alpha sitting in a chair across from him, apparently watching him. "Derek? What the fuck?"

The werewolf just looked back at him.

"Have you been there all night?"

"Since you went back to sleep," was the quiet reply. Stiles' mind flashed back to earlier that morning, the panic attack, the soothing, his outburst, the help with sleep. He didn't know how Derek managed to refer to that time without displaying his acknowledgment of all that had occurred.

Stiles took another drink of coffee, then looked down at the mug in his lap. "I suppose you're responsible for this, then?" Derek nodded as if it were a regularly occurring fact. Stiles nodded again and took another drink. Something occurred to him then that he hadn't thought about the previous night.

"Why are you here?"

The Alpha was quiet for a moment before he decided to answer and even then it looked like he was thinking hard about his words and choosing them with care. "I had a bad feeling, so I came over here. I found Isaac fighting one of the other pack and I found another one on the other side of the house." Stiles closed his eyes at what that implied. "I helped Isaac with the one he was fighting, ran the other one off, and sent Isaac home. Everything was quiet for a few seconds, and then I heard you in here. I came to investigate and it took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. You know the rest from there."

"Why did you stay?" Stiles opened his eyes again, appealing to Derek to resolve his confusion.

"Someone needs to watch you. Last night those two wolves were here to retrieve you."

"I'm pretty sure they would have left me when they saw me freaking out."

Derek was silent for a moment and his eyes were trained on the floor. He appeared to be thinking about something and Stiles watched while drinking his coffee, just waiting. The green was back on him then and Stiles was taken aback by the intensity. "Why did you freak out?"

"Why do you care?" He only got the intense, green stare in response.

Stiles closed his eyes again and sighed internally. The wolf wasn't going to leave it alone until Stiles gave an answer and he would only save time by telling the truth. He opened his eyes again, a little surprised to find Derek looking straight back at him.

"It started with a nightmare, really. I don't really remember it but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with wolves. I woke up and then I had the panic attack." Stiles paused for a second to remember how it felt and talked, "It, it felt like everything that's been spiraling around, the danger and the stress and the hyper-vigilance and the threat, just coalesced and slammed into me like, like a train or an arrow. That's what it always feels like, a mass of everything just crashes into my chest, collapsing my lungs.

"I felt like I was suffocating and, I don't know, dude. It's a panic attack. I felt scared, like absolutely terrified, and of nothing in particular. It's a cloud of fear that suddenly descends and you don't know where anything is, but you're surrounded by fear and you have to try to protect yourself to keep anything really bad from happening," his voice had sped up and he made an effort to slow it down, "People compare them to tornadoes, you know. They strike suddenly, wreak havoc, then disappear again and there's nothing you can do about it," his voice had slowed down, but he was breathing faster. Stiles took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face.

"So I guess it was this whole situation that caused the panic attack. I mean, I'm not like you guys. I can't do the things you do and be unaffected by all of this because I'm a big bad wolf. I'm just a helpless human with more problems than attributes that you wouldn't want to turn even if I did want the bite, which I still don't. Maybe you should have let the other wolves see the panic attack, then they'd realize why they don't want me." The last comment was meant more for himself, but he realized that it was out there and now he had no way to take it back.

Derek stiffened across from him at the end of his statement, but he didn't do anything else. His gaze finally shifted from Stiles' to something just beyond Stiles' head and Stiles drank the rest of his coffee. After a few minutes he decided to interrupt the silent contemplation with the question he so desperately wanted answered. "Derek, why do you care?"

The werewolf's eyes returned to his and Stiles felt unable to move under their intensity. "I just do." He rose from the chair then and crossed to the still-open window. Stiles simply followed him with his eyes, not making a comment because he knew it was useless.

Without even a glance backward, Derek opened the window further and crawled out. Stiles could hear the subsequent sound of footsteps on the roof, until they disappeared and he was left alone with the silence .

**Thanks to everyone for the follows and the favorites. Could I get a few reviews? I really like those.**


	4. Chapter 4

Scott told him later that there was another pack meeting and when Stiles asked why he hadn't been dragged to it, Scott said that Derek deemed Stiles' presence at this one unnecessary but optional. Stiles sighed and fell back to his mattress, letting his phone slip out of his fingers. It probably had something to do with the previous night.

Stiles didn't know if Derek simply considered him too fragile to attend the meetings anymore at the moment or if he was now not allowed to leave the house until the threat passed. Either way, Stiles was surprised to find how little he cared. He did care about why Derek Hale had calmed his panic attack and helped him sleep, though.

It really was pretty considerate of the Alpha to enter his room in the middle of the night to help end the attack, and Stiles figured he'd probably better express the gratitude he begrudgingly admitted to feeling. He pushed himself up to his elbows and looked over his room, thinking. The house was empty, but he didn't feel like occupying any other room, even though he usually utilized all of the first floor, particularly the TV speakers, when he was home alone.

He sighed and hoped that he wasn't going crazy or turning into some skittish shell of a human being because really that was what had him in his room, the fear of the other pack and what they might try now that their plan had been foiled again. All of his protectors were away, so he was fairly screwed if the other wolves decided on an attack now. He knew he shouldn't think about it, but in the not so distant past, ignoring things had never worked out well for Stiles and the pack.

Downstairs, Stiles heard the cracking sound of the front door sticking as it opened and he froze. It had to be either his dad or Scott, he told himself. He got up and went to his door, figuring that his dad would be confused if he weren't downstairs. His stomach felt heavy and Stiles wished he had some way of knowing whether it was valid or if it was just his body reacting too strongly to nothing.

In his doorway, Stiles leaned into the hallway and called out. "Dad?"

"Definitely not." Stiles turned toward the voice to find a large male werewolf standing at the end of the hallway. The man's hands were casually stuck in the pockets of his hoodie and he looked at Stiles with a sharp smile. Stiles swallowed, but couldn't bring himself to do anything. The man shifted forward and suddenly Stiles' legs moved, back a step. The wolf cocked his head to the side and smiled again. "You really don't think you'll get away this time do you? We have the house surrounded and we know that the pack you spend your time around is miles away."

Eyes wide, Stiles rushed to the window in his room, looking out to see a ring of werewolves around his house, gazing up at his window in calm expectation. They knew what was going to happen and had no concerns about failure. Stiles had the awful feeling that they were all staring at him as soon as he appeared in the window.

Not knowing how much time he had, but knowing there wasn't much, Stiles ducked away from the window and swept as much of his desktop into his jacket pocket as he could in the space of a second. He turned to see the werewolf now occupying his doorway, still smiling that creepy-ass smile at him.

"I suggest you come quietly." Then he moved toward Stiles and the teenager did the only thing he could. He tore open one of the packets from his desk and threw it at the wolf. On impact, the wolf stopped and snarled, scrubbing at his eyes and skin. At the same moment, Stiles launched himself through the door, barely caught himself on the railing, and hurtled down the stairs. He was through the front door in seconds and he was readying another packet for the inevitable pursuit.

There was a chance for him to escape to the Hale house. Stiles was athletic and in good shape, and these two facts added up to a chance that he was willing to take. He wasn't particularly physically strong—especially not in comparison to werewolves—but he was fast and smart and hopefully that would carry him to Derek and the rest of the pack.

At the sound of a wolf on his heels, Stiles spared a single glance over his shoulder—praising the fact that he played lacrosse—and threw the mixture behind him. He heard the results, but it didn't lessen the sound of the chase. Stiles groaned and tore open another packet, throwing it without looking. More pained howls, but not enough.

His anxiety started to rise, and Stiles put on another burst of speed. The odd desire to have Derek at his side hit Stiles then and resulted in him almost tripping when he realized what it was. Stiles immediately rationalized that wanting a strong, powerful, angry alpha werewolf was not unreasonable in his situation, but he somehow knew that it was more than that.

It was the fact that Derek had climbed through his window and cared enough—for whatever mysterious reason—to take away Stiles' panic and not simply stand by and watch. It was the fact that Derek had then made Stiles' brain shut off and go to sleep. It was that Derek had stayed the night, in his room, and had thought to get him coffee the next morning. Stiles knew that it was really the fact that he felt safe and sometimes even valued when he was in the vicinity of Derek Hale.

He was nearing the house and if he'd had any breath in his lungs to spare, he would have cheered. Then a human-like figure appeared in front of him and Stiles had to pull up short, stumbling a little. The other form straightened and Stiles instantly knew that he was looking at a more powerful werewolf than the others. It wasn't the alpha, but it wasn't like the other betas.

Chest heaving, Stiles sized up the new threat, counting down his seconds in his head. A low growl leaked from the throat of the werewolf in front of him, but Stiles stood his ground. A force from behind knocked him to the forest floor in response, sending him sprawling. Stiles' jacket was yanked roughly off of his body and his only real defenses were withdrawn and thrown away along with the jacket.

Stiles tried to get to his feet, but he was pushed down again and held there, the breath punched from his lungs. He grabbed a handful of the dirt and leaves of the forest floor and tossed it futilely behind him. He heard it hit a body and fall back to the ground, making no difference whatsoever, not that he'd expected it to.

The werewolf in charge stepped closer and Stiles could feel the other wolves move to surround the clearing. There weren't as many as before, but Stiles had no hope of getting away from them now. The head werewolf knelt down in front of him and took Stiles' chin in hand, turning his face from side to side. Stiles spit at him and the werewolf merely chuckled before slapping him hard across the face and turning away as Stiles yelped and rolled to the side, raising a hand to cover the split skin.

Stiles recalled Derek telling him that these wolves wouldn't hesitate to harm him and he tried again to swallow his anxiety, swallowing blood with it. The werewolf turned to him again and kicked him swiftly in the side, seeming to exert little energy when doing so. Stiles gasped and clutched at his ribs, forgetting his face.

"Obedience is something you'll have to learn the hard way, it seems. You're very intelligent, though, so I'm confident that you'll learn quickly," the werewolf said, followed by snickers from the other wolves. The werewolf looked down at Stiles in disdain and kicked him again, not as hard this time, but in the stomach. Stiles groaned and rolled to his other side, coughing.

The werewolf drew his foot back again and Stiles braced himself upon seeing that the boot was level with his knees when a loud, furious growl permeated the loaded air and seemed to echo through the clearing. All attention—including Stiles'—snapped to the source of the sound.

Stiles saw a huge black wolf standing between two trees and he felt a grin shape his face, not faltering when the expression stretched his split skin. A mangled laugh escaped his mouth and he shifted his eyes to the lead werewolf. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Everyone was fixated on the wolf and it appeared that even a single alpha werewolf was enough to strike an undetermined amount of betas immobile. Again, Stiles felt like cheering.

The wolf gathered himself up and Stiles rolled out of the way as it barreled toward his captor. The beta seemed unprepared for the strength and ferocity of the attack and fell backwards. The wolf was about the size of a small horse, and, in terms of mass, not much smaller than the werewolf, but it was still thrown off and to the other side of the clearing by the lower ranking werewolf. The wolf quickly regained its feet and snarled at the werewolf who had now shifted into his beta form.

One of the beta werewolves grabbed Stiles from the ground then, claws puncturing his skin. Stiles hissed and tried to pull away, but the hold only tightened, drawing blood and a sharp yelp. At that, the wolf growled and launched itself at the werewolf with new determination, knocking him again to the ground. There wasn't much of a struggle this time, though it was apparent that the other werewolf was fighting hard. Still, the wolf remained on top of his chest by sheer will. With another vicious snarl, the wolf lunged forward, grabbing the other werewolf by the throat and biting down.

The snap echoed through the clearing and when the wolf turned around, all of the other betas ran off. Stiles stumbled a little at being suddenly released and groaned at the shot of pain from his various bruises. He checked his arms, though, since they were the current, bleeding concerns and was satisfied to see that the blood was already clotting. Stiles sighed and watched Derek begin to shift out of wolf form. He looked away when the human body was more recognizable and Derek changed into the clothes he'd brought with him. When Stiles deemed it safe, he turned back.

Derek was looking down at the other werewolf and he growled in his throat, kicking at the corpse. When Stiles turned around, though, he looked up and their eyes met. Stiles felt something pass between them. He didn't know exactly what it was but it was similar to the after-events of the incidents in the police station—both with Isaac and with Matt—and the pool.

The Alpha turned and began walking in the opposite direction of the house. Stiles found himself following a few steps behind, bending down to reclaim his jacket, then hurrying to catch up with Derek.

They walked in silence for a long time and Stiles was slowly becoming aware of a sharp, throbbing pain in his wrist along with the increased soreness of his split lip and bruises as the adrenaline wore out of his body. He didn't complain or react much but to cradle his wrist to his chest to keep his steps from jarring it and breathing around the persistent pain. Eventually the two walkers were out of the trees and on the overhang that looked over Beacon Hills.

Everything was quiet and the half-moon lent its light to the dark wilderness. A chill was creeping up, but it didn't affect the werewolf or the human. Stiles hung back a little, sitting down on a tree stump while Derek stood at the edge, looking over the town. It wasn't long before Derek turned to him and apparently noticed just how abused Stiles had been. He frowned and Stiles watched the werewolf approach, concern written in the green eyes.

Derek stopped in front of him and put a hand on the side of his face, almost absentmindedly as he was still looking into Stiles' eyes. As the werewolf's veins blackened, Stiles felt his pain fade away and his split lip seal. Derek glanced down at his wrist then before looking back at Stiles. Feeling an overwhelming and unexplainable surge of trust, Stiles held his wrist out to Derek and let him take it—with a surprising gentleness—into his hands. Once again, Derek's veins turned black and the swelling subsided as Stiles felt the bones coming back together.

"I must have fractured it when I was pushed down," Stiles observed quietly, marveling at the previously injured joint and twisting it around a little when he had it back in his control. He looked back up at Derek and swallowed. The werewolf was looking at him intently, but didn't appear to actually see Stiles sitting there.

"Derek," Stiles tried getting the Alpha's attention. When Derek's eyes were focused, Stiles swallowed again and braced himself, watching Derek's expression morph into one of confusion as he could obviously tell that Stiles was preparing himself for something. Stiles had to thank Derek and he had to do it now before he lost his nerve.

Stiles focused on his lap and measured the words as they came out of his mouth. "Thanks for, you know, everything. I really appreciate it, and it's nice knowing that there's someone willing to set up a whole squad of protectors for me, no matter how skilled those "protectors" are." He looked up then to see Derek looking at him curiously. "It's nice to feel safe, you know? A lot of people take that feeling for granted. I'm just glad that I have a reason to feel safe, even when I shouldn't feel safe, and you're the one to thank for that. So, thanks. I know that you don't have to do it, or maybe you do, I don't know." Stiles' gaze went back to his lap. "Never mind, just ignore me. I mean, I really am grateful, but you can ignore that other stuff." Stiles winced a little and let the sentence trail off when he fully realized how badly he was rambling.

"Stiles." Derek's voice was much closer and Stiles' eyes snapped up to the Alpha's, his eyebrows asking 'what?' for him. His answer didn't come in words, though.

Derek was directly in front of him, still kneeling so they were on roughly the same level. Their eyes were locked together and Stiles didn't notice when Derek leaned forward until he registered closed eyes a split second before Derek pressed his lips to Stiles'.

The kiss was small and Stiles' eyes remained wide open as his heart thundered in his chest and sparks flew. After maybe two or three seconds, the miniscule pressure on Stiles' lips decreased and Derek was leaning away. Stiles followed Derek's movement as soon as his lips were free and wrapped his arms around the Alpha's head and neck, his own eyes slipping closed as he pushed their lips back together for a firmer, longer, real kiss.

Derek's hands quickly found the sides of Stiles' face in response and he leaned into Stiles and the touch.

They kissed until they both needed to breathe and then they left their foreheads to rest together. Stiles' eyes remained closed and he breathed in short, disbelieving bursts. "Oh my God," he whispered, running his tongue quickly over his lips and gathering everything that happened, putting it together to form an acceptable conclusion.

He moved a little, matched by Derek, and their lips came together again for one more kiss before Stiles drew away and opened his eyes to look at the werewolf who was still cradling his face in hands that Stiles had seen tipped with claws. The soft look in Derek's eyes was not on Stiles' list of expectations and it seemed that the werewolf wasn't surprised at all by the recent events, or maybe he'd gotten over it already. Derek apparently accepted it, though, because he seemed to be waiting for Stiles to say something.

Stiles was unable to do that, though, at least not with words. He felt like a magnet, drawn back to the person in front of him. Wanting more of that strange feeling of right that had been echoing in his head, Stiles again tilted his chin to kiss Derek Hale. Derek responded, angling his head and pushing into the touch, giving Stiles something to push against and effectively making the kiss a bit deeper.

Everywhere, Stiles was surrounded by the vague feeling that something important was happening. Things were clicking into place and his heart was beating steadily at a faster rate than was normal, Derek's heartbeat echoing. A euphoric feeling was rising in his chest and his brain was buzzing. Then something in the air around them—and it felt like a big something—shifted.

At the feeling of the shift, Derek made a noise in his throat similar to a purr and relaxed almost wholly while Stiles' eyes flew open and he gasped. Derek was apparently able to tell that the sound was unrelated to him and he pulled away to look at Stiles, blinking dazedly.

The teenager could feel his wide eyes and his expression of bewilderment. "What was that?" he asked breathlessly, still reeling from the sensation itself.

"What?" Derek's eyebrows were closer together in a frown that spoke more of confusion than irritation.

"That weird, that, I don't know what it was, it felt like something big moved, not a lot just a little bit. I don't know how to describe it." Stiles drew his arms away from Derek's neck to gesture.

"You felt that?" The question was let out on a breath and Derek sounded surprised and disbelieving and amazed all at once.

Stiles nodded vigorously, frowning in confusion himself. "Yeah, of course I did. Wait," he paused, realizing how stupid he was for not just immediately assuming in the first place, "what supernatural thing's going on now? What does it mean?"

Derek smiled and it was unlike anything Stiles had ever seen before. The expression made the Alpha actually look happy and it erased the slight but constant tension of ever-present doom in the man's whole demeanor. Stiles almost felt that he was looking at another person entirely, except that he felt he recognized this Derek. The smile itself was pretty small, but it changed everything. "It means," he said as he leaned closer, "that my wolf has marked you." His eyes pulsed bright red and Stiles felt his own eyes grow before the green returned and the wolf was again contained.

"What does that mean?" he asked, dazed.

Derek's smile grew a little bit. "It means," he whispered, "that my wolf has claimed you as my mate. Werewolves, as I'm sure you know, mate for life and when the mate is chosen and claimed, that person is the only one able to fill the position."

Millions of questions flew through Stiles' mind, drowning out any other thoughts he might have about Derek's explanation. He chose the three big ones. "So, it's a position, nothing more than that?"

Derek looked a little confused at the question and Stiles mentally cursed the inconvenient fact that Derek had always been a wolf. "No, it's a connection, a deep connection between two people. It's a position in the pack, yes, but it's also a bond."

Stiles processed that, feeling his chest loosen marginally. "And this was your wolf deciding, your feelings about the mate don't matter?" Derek simply looked at him and the intensity in his eyes answered Stiles' question, subsequently sending a shiver down his back.

"What about me? Do I get a say in this, or do I just have to accept it?" Stiles heard his voice shake as he asked what might be the most important question and he desperately hoped the answer was what he wanted to hear.

"Of course you do." Stiles' chest loosened in relief and he felt breathing coming easier to him. "The marking doesn't make us mates. The marking only indicates the one person who can be the mate. You have to choose to accept or deny the claim."

Stiles nodded, the weight of his position immediately evident. He was the person standing between Derek having a real connection again that wasn't power or position based and the continuation of the wolf's current isolation. Stiles bit back a sigh at what his life had become and refocused on the truly vulnerable alpha werewolf kneeling in front of him, the question evident in his eyes.

"Can I think about it?" Stiles asked timidly, hoping less for Derek to not be angry and more for the other to not be disappointed or upset.

"Yes. Do. This isn't a decision to be made lightly because we can't undo it." Derek stood up, silhouetted by the moon. He seemed at ease and unbothered by Stiles' need to process and think about such a thing.

"Of course not, nothing can be undone," Stiles sighed, standing up and stretching his back, glancing at the moon as he did so. "I should probably get home, you know."

"That's where I was planning on taking you." Derek wasn't angry—something that Stiles was now getting used to—but his vulnerability had almost completely disappeared, though Stiles felt like he could still detect it in the set of Derek's shoulders. Once Stiles was done stretching, Derek turned and began the trek back to Stiles' house. This time, Stiles walked beside him.

"So, just to clarify, you aren't tempted to kill me anymore?" Stiles asked, running his fingers over the holes in his jacket and debating whether or not they were noticeable enough for him to have to throw it out.

"I wouldn't say that." Derek didn't smile, but Stiles caught the humor in his tone.

"You're really funny." Stiles mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and playing with the one packet that the other wolves missed, still trying to decide about the jacket.

Derek was apparently able to hear the package in his pocket because he asked about it. "I know that you did something to them."

Stiles drew it out and let the package lay flat in his palm so Derek could see it clearly. "It's a mixture of mountain ash and wolfsbane that I made when I noticed the people following me around." He shrugged. "I figured it was supernatural related, hence the mountain ash, and for extra security I threw in the wolfsbane." Stiles laughed a little and tossed the packet in the air, catching it on its descent, and putting it back in his pocket. "I'll have to make some more, but now I know it works." He grinned at Derek and was caught off guard when Derek smiled back. It was close-lipped and miniscule, but it was there.

**Thanks for the reviews and favorites and follows, they all make me quite happy.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you, everyone, for all of the love. Opening my inbox to see all of the favorites and follows and the occasional review is so awesome. Also, thank you guest Jessi for your review (since I'm unable to PM you). Keep up the love people! (Review! It's the best form of love).**

As Stiles' house appeared through the trees, the teenager could feel Derek slowing his pace just as Stiles did. The rest of the walk up to the front lawn took twice the time it normally did and Stiles, with all of his human senses, could feel the reluctance in the air because the house marked the end of the quiet, comfortable atmosphere the two had built between them. Stiles reasoned that it wasn't the end of their contact, but it was certainly the end of the momentary peace.

Halfway up to the porch, Derek must have stopped because Stiles was aware, a few steps later, that the werewolf was no longer at his side. Stiles stopped and turned to look at the Alpha standing in the middle of the front yard, watching him.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, frowning in confusion. "Come on, my dad's not home, he's working on a big case at the station." He couldn't deny that he wanted Derek with him, not just because he was nervous about the other pack's ability to get into his house—though for it being the dwelling of the town sheriff it had the underwhelming security system of two locks on all of the doors and windows—but because he actually enjoyed being around Derek and he wanted to explore this new ground they'd stumbled onto.

"I'm going to stay out here and keep watch. You go ahead and sleep."

"Oh," Stiles said, disappointed. Derek nodded, as if the fact that he was serious wasn't clear, and turned away to, presumably, begin his patrolling. Stiles hesitated, biting his lip before he reluctantly turned to the door and went back inside.

He ate another bowl of cereal for a meal and headed upstairs because there wasn't much else to do and he was exhausted. While lacrosse practice kept him in shape, being a bench player held him back from the peak of physical fitness and running from supernatural creatures, surprisingly, didn't contribute much, probably because it rarely involved actually running. Stiles' muscles were sore and now that the adrenaline from the running, beating, and kissing had completely left his system, he was drained and wanted nothing more than a shower and his mattress.

Once the first one was achieved, Stiles changed his clothes and turned off the light in his room. When he turned back to his bed and his clock, he noticed that it was midnight and he wasn't doing anything a teenager normally did and was instead exhausted from an encounter with werewolves. Stiles hovered for a second, processing the fact for the umpteenth time, before he decided that he didn't care when his bed was calling out to him the way it was.

Stiles fell into bed and pulled his blanket around him, burrowing instantly into his pillow and willing sleep to come and carry him away. Unfortunately, Stiles' wishes were often overlooked and regardless of his position, sleep would not touch him or even approach. Annoyed, Stiles sighed and got out of bed, identifying the problem as soon as he'd stopped trying to avoid it.

He opened the window wide, ignoring the cold air that attacked him. When that was done, as obvious as he could make it, Stiles went back to his bed and settled down by the wall, drawing his blanket around himself. He made sure that the other side of the bed had the covers flipped back and wracked his brain to think of anything else he could do. Coming up with nothing, Stiles settled and watched the wall, waiting.

Disappointed he was not. Only a minute after offering the invitation, it was accepted and Stiles closed his eyes at the sound of the window being closed. He heard Derek advance softly into the room and could almost pinpoint the exact moment when the werewolf noticed the bed. Shortly after that moment, Stiles heard the rustle of Derek slowly removing his shoes and jacket and he felt the mattress dip with added weight as Derek settled behind him.

Satisfied, Stiles leaned backward into the wolf and Derek hesitated only a moment before putting his arms around Stiles and pulling them closer together. It was what Stiles wanted, exactly what he wanted, and he felt his slight anxiety wane.

Neither said anything. Stiles was still staring at the wall and he didn't know precisely what Derek was doing, but the atmosphere between them was calm and peaceful for once and Stiles resolved to preserve it. But then a question cropped up in his mind and it fell from his lips before he had the time to banish it.

"Why am I so special?"

Stiles could almost feel Derek's disturbed frown and a small part of him wanted to take the question back, but he wanted the answer and now seemed the best time to ask for it. "What are you talking about?" Derek asked, though they both knew that he knew very well what Stiles meant when he asked the question.

The teenager played along. "What makes me so special that I'm allowed to stick with you guys even though I still refuse the bite? Before tonight, there wasn't anything that truly connected me to the pack, yet I've always been allowed and expected to be around and help out."

"You're incredibly stubborn and you would have stuck your nose in it anyway," Derek replied simply, but Stiles wasn't buying it.

"Why am I allowed to be with you guys even though I don't have anything significantly valuable to contribute?"

Stiles could feel the deep breath that Derek took and he was able to picture the look on the werewolf's face. "You do contribute something and its results are valuable," Derek answered quietly. Stiles waited for the explanation following that statement, knowing that it would come. "When Scott was bitten, you didn't have to stick by him, especially not when it got so dangerous for both of you. I was confident that you would leave sooner or later, but you didn't."

"Of course I didn't! Dude, Scott's my best friend and he needs me so much. If he didn't have me, he would be dead by now." Stiles couldn't help interrupting, but Derek's suggestion was just so ridiculous.

Stiles was sure that Derek laughed a little bit. "You're not wrong about that, but that's exactly what I'm talking about. You can't even comprehend the idea of abandoning your friend, even though he hasn't been nearly as loyal to you. Lydia, too, she was never as nice or attentive to you as you were to her, yet you continued to worry and care about her."

"Where are you going with all of this? I don't need to be reminded about what I did when I thought I was in love with Lydia Martin." Derek tightened his grip on Stiles by just a little bit to quiet him.

"My point is that what makes you special is your loyalty to the people you love and your ability to love people so much as to do anything for them. Part of the reason the pack has become a real pack is because you're around. You caring about everyone in the pack inspires them to care about each other."

"So what makes me special is my sappiness?"

"No, it's not sappiness. I've never met anyone who isn't a werewolf who cares about people as much as you do. It's something that makes you strong, Stiles, not weak, and it's what makes you worthy to be part of the pack."

Derek's voice was soft but firm and his words seemed to ring in Stiles' ears as their meanings sank into his head, reminding him instantly of his mother. She had been the person Derek had just described and Stiles couldn't fathom being compared to her. Derek hadn't known her, though, so he couldn't possibly know what he was doing. Stiles dropped his head and pushed into the werewolf's hold, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Thank you," he whispered so softly he doubted it was audible to human ears. Derek didn't ask him why and he seemed to know that Stiles understood now, so the room fell silent. Stiles moved one hand from where it rested on Derek's and ran the back of it across his eyes, rubbing away the wetness that had sprung up. He took a deep breath, blinking until his eyes were dry again.

"I feel safe with you, you know," Stiles whispered with more volume when he fully registered just how close he was to Derek Hale and remembered why that was so. "You've gone to all this trouble to keep me away from the other pack and even though the original plan didn't work, I'm still okay now. Just considering the effort that's been made, I know I'm safe with you."

Derek made another noise, a low-pitched humming sound, in his throat and he pulled Stiles closer. Stiles closed his eyes, absolutely comfortable in his position and replaced his hand on top of Derek's. He felt safe and with that feeling came contentedness. It made Stiles wonder about what had transpired between the two of them earlier and he thought again about what Derek had told him.

"So about this claiming, mating thing. Your opinion did matter in the wolf's choice, right? What exactly does that mean?"

"Do you really not know the answer to that question?" Derek's voice suggested that he should.

Stiles' mind flickered back to his bedroom after the first advance of the other wolf pack and the conversation he'd been having with Scott. Stiles also thought of everything that had happened since, all of the decisions made to protect him. "I thought you were just doing that because you didn't want to lose me to a rival pack since that would undermine your leadership and authority," he replied, tightening his hands on the Alpha's.

In response Derek pulled him even closer. "It was more than that," he whispered. Stiles sighed at the confirmation and closed his eyes, content with his position and the knowledge that there was another person, unrelated to him, that cared about his life.

With both of those thoughts floating in his head, Stiles and sleep finally met, embraced, and quickly picked up their relationship where it left off .

**One note, I'm going on vacation tomorrow (woo!) until next Friday (Aug. 2). I will try to get the next two chapters up on Monday and Thursday but I might fail in that endeavor. If so, I will update again on Aug. 5.**


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles woke slowly, unbelievably warm, from the deepest sleep he'd had in weeks. The werewolf he'd fallen asleep with the last night was still with him, too, hogging blankets and pillow space. Stiles couldn't tell if Derek was asleep or not, but whatever the case, the grip around his waist hadn't eased and Stiles couldn't move.

A deep sigh from behind him alerted Stiles to the revival of the wolf. "Good morning," he said, looking at the wall, only able to move as much as the Alpha behind him did. In response to his greeting he received a face in the crook of his neck and the feeling of the wolf's inhale and exhale on his skin. The werewolf hummed a little and Stiles' surprise at Derek's newfound content with him increased a little more.

He was about to say something else, but the mattress shifted as Derek rolled away. Stiles turned over to see the Alpha stretching and reaching for his jacket. "Why are you leaving?" Stiles asked, sitting up.

Derek picked up on the slightly panicked note to Stiles' voice instantaneously, and he was kneeling in front of the teenager in seconds. "I'm going back to the house to take care of a few things. I'll be back tonight." His voice was softer than usual, but Stiles still stared blankly at the figure before him. Derek raised a hand to his cheek, warm and comforting. "Nothing's going to happen to you, Stiles. I'll call Scott and Isaac and tell them to come over." The wolf leaned closer and Stiles closed his eyes when Derek's lips pressed against his forehead. Derek bumped their foreheads together lightly and fixed Stiles with a serious look. "You'll be fine, I promise."

Stiles nodded, feeling his confidence rise. Derek rose, nodded at him, and exited through the window. Stiles watched after him for a minute before kicking off his blanket and getting out of bed. He wasn't going to sit in bed all day like a victim. He had things to do, like the grocery shopping.

While he pulled his clothes on, Stiles texted Scott, telling the other teenager to meet him at the store. Leaving his room, Stiles grabbed the jacket from the previous night and pulled it on after deeming it acceptable for further use. Before the door closed behind him, though, Stiles hesitated and went back to his desk, opening a drawer and collecting most of the contents. Stiles let out an unstable exhale with his hands over his pockets, but he was prepared and he rolled his shoulders before leaving his bedroom.

The Jeep started without much prompting and Stiles was pulling out of the driveway, onto the road that led to town, within minutes. His mind was a mess with all of the thoughts winging around, but Stiles couldn't mistake the fact that he was actually happy. He belonged in the pack, there was a reason that was so, his life didn't seem so doomed anymore, and he was evidently connected to the Alpha werewolf in a way that he still couldn't wrap his head around.

It was a simple concept and Stiles understood the fact that he was supposed to be the werewolf's mate, but what he still failed to comprehend was how it applied to him. He didn't feel different and he had no idea if he was supposed to feel something before he made his decision about the claim or if it was based purely on whether or not he wanted to be bound to the Alpha. Stiles also didn't know what would happen if he accepted it, how it would change him. The uncertainty would probably easily be resolved by Derek, but Stiles still hesitated when he thought about it because what if the wolf was wrong?

It wasn't a totally inconceivable possibility.

Stiles' indecision was interrupted when his Jeep suddenly bucked underneath him. With his heart jumping in his throat, Stiles corrected, only to have the vehicle again defy his control. The Jeep jumped under him again and shuddered, veering onto the shoulder of the road. The gas and brake pedals made no difference in the movement and Stiles avoided the trees only because the steering wheel seemed to still function. Stiles twisted the key in the ignition, turning the engine off, and undid the seatbelt to find out what was wrong.

Something heavy and dark and in no way human slammed into the side of the Jeep, though, and Stiles jumped to the other side, far away from the door. His heart was hammering, blood rushed to his legs, and everything in his head screamed at him to get the fuck out of the Jeep and run. Stiles turned to do just that, but something he couldn't see thudded into that side and he yelped, jumping back to the driver's seat.

The Jeep began to groan and Stiles had to duck as glass in front of him shattered. He swallowed any sound he was tempted to make since he now understood what was happening. Ten werewolves were gathered around the Jeep and one was perched on the hood, right in front of him. All were partially shifted, teeth bared, and Stiles pushed back into his seat because it was obvious that they were serious and would drag him from the Jeep in any condition other than deceased.

The werewolf on the hood leaned forward and Stiles cringed as the distance between them decreased. He could reach his pockets, but something told him that movement was going to get him injured, so he stayed still, letting the werewolf get close. Stiles assumed that the werewolf was smelling him for whatever reason he had, and he screwed his eyes shut, willing this to get itself over with.

A vicious snarl opened Stiles' eyes and he breathed the space he had regained when the werewolf jumped back to the hood. The others seemed to take a collective whiff and come to the same conclusion because there were more snarls and growls. The werewolf on the hood of the Jeep was staring at him and Stiles started at the disgust in the expression.

"You're useless now," he spit. "We were going to change you, give you wonderful gifts and allow you into the pack, but now…" The werewolf actually spit to the side of the Jeep. "Our Alpha won't be happy, he was quite interested in what you could do for us and he won't be happy to learn of this…development." The werewolf snarled again, sounding appalled. "Untouchable."

Stiles' confusion was at its breaking point, but he had no desire to ask any of the questions buzzing around his head. Not in the presence of all the anger surrounding him.

"But, Caesar, if we find the Alpha who did this, we can reverse it all and August won't be upset. We won't only get that one, either, we'll get all of them." Caesar's and Stiles' gazes swung to the werewolf who had spoken. She was looking at the other werewolf the same way Lydia looked at almost everyone and Caesar seemed a little startled at her words.

"Of course," he whispered, dismounting. He turned to Stiles. "Prepare yourself, kid, we'll be back for you again." Then the werewolf turned to address everyone else. "You all heard Heather. Let's go!"

Within seconds, Stiles was left alone again. He felt no relief, though, and he wrestled with the dented door before giving up and exiting the Jeep through the shattered windshield. He spared a second of disappointment at the unfortunate occurrence—though the Jeep had been through worse, maybe—before he refocused and ran after the eleven angry werewolves en route to Derek with the intent to kill him.

Something had happened that made him "untouchable" and now the other pack was going to kill Derek. Underneath the vague nausea Stiles felt was the fixed determination that Derek was not going to die at the hands of these betas under any circumstances, not after everything that the pack had been through. When Stiles came to that conclusion he put on a burst of speed, feeling a force in the air rush him and push him on.

The unmistakable sound of fighting—snarling, breaking branches, yelps, and grunts—came into focus and Stiles felt his eyes widen in panic. They'd already reached Derek. He accelerated yet again and stopped at the scene before him.

Derek was surrounded by fifteen wolves, all growling and snapping at him, all fighting him at once though he was alone. Stiles dug his hand into his pocket, pulled out a packet, and before he could think, he ran to the edge of the clearing and yelled, "Hey!"

Stiles didn't know why he thought it would have an effect on the fight, but to his extreme surprise, it did. All action ceased and everyone, including Derek, was staring at him. The skin at his temples felt tense as he glared at the assembled werewolves and they stared back at him. He met Derek's eyes, discarding the glare, and felt something in the air around him solidify.

Before truly comprehending what he'd decided to do, Stiles stepped into the clearing and walked through the other pack until he stood at Derek's side. The wolves of the other pack allowed him to pass, and they seemed unable to move in their shock or horror. Derek, partially shifted, was looking at him in a way that suggested he didn't know what Stiles was doing and Stiles simply answered the look with a confident smile. He tossed the packet in his hand, catching it on its descent and indicated the other wolves with a tilt of his head, "Ready to kick some ass?" Derek answered with a confident gleam in his eyes and a smile not unlike Stiles'.

They turned back to the other pack together and Stiles ripped open the packet in his hand, throwing it at the werewolves and buying Derek time to shift to the full wolf form. Action resumed in that instant, complete with snarls and growls when the mixture and the wolf made contact. Derek was already handling three werewolves and Stiles dug into his pocket for another mixture, looking around at everyone else.

Behind him, he heard feet shifting on the forest floor and he whirled, packet ready. Two of the wolves were hit, but the other managed to dodge and came toward Stiles with teeth bared. Eyes wide, Stiles turned in a split second, avoiding the werewolf. Stiles threw another one of the packets and winced a little when the werewolf howled and clawed at his skin. There was another wolf, ready for the attack and he barreled at Stiles after pausing to snarl.

Stiles, incensed by some burst of invincibility, ran toward the werewolf to meet in the middle of the distance between them. He grabbed the werewolf by the upper arms and sliced into the wolf's momentum, ending his action in planting his feet on the ground and following through, throwing the werewolf a few feet away from him. Stiles didn't pause to gawk at the display of strength and reached into his pocket for another packet of weaponized powder. He couldn't stop his cringe at the pitiful whine of pain as the werewolf fell to the ground, reacting like the others. Stiles was pulled from his empathy, though, when he heard another whine from behind him.

Derek was growling, fur rippling, engaged in an intimidating stand-off with another werewolf, but Stiles had heard the expression of pain, no matter how faint, and he could see the way Derek was favoring his right side. Stiles stepped up beside him, aiding in the stare-down. He felt the tension in his temples again and tore open another plastic sack, silently daring the other werewolf to advance.

The attack came and Derek jumped in front of Stiles a moment before impact. Stiles, though, was ready and was just as fast. The mixture flew from his hand and before it could hit, Stiles had wrapped himself around Derek, shielding him from the powdered substance as it rained down. By burying his head in the thick black fur around him, Stiles was able to muffle the resulting howls of pain and he lay over Derek on the forest floor, using his humanity as a shelter.

Stiles' ears were overwhelmed with the sound of shifting leaves and whimpers. He looked up to see the retreating forms of the other pack, some still bearing the effects of his improvised weapon, and before long he and Derek were left alone in the clearing.

Derek was shifting and Stiles got off of him, standing up. Once Derek shifted into his full form for the first time, he always carried extra clothes when he was out. Stiles found the dropped articles and tossed them toward the shifting man, turning to look at the four bodies of the werewolves unlucky enough to encounter Derek in the short, chaotic battle.

He heard Derek pulling the clothes on and when the sound of the fabric dragging across skin stopped, Stiles turned again. He was unable to deliver the words poised on his tongue because Derek's arms pulled him against their owner's chest and Stiles' mouth was occupied with greater pursuits.

Breathing was still a necessity, though, and to take that into consideration, the kissing had to stop. Once his senses returned, Stiles registered that Derek was smiling at him again, looking even happier than before. "You accepted."

"I did?" At the question, Stiles' confused frown was reflected by Derek. It appeared that he was about to speak, but a loud, rushing sound filled the air before he could and Stiles ducked, looking up at the sky and cutting the other man off. "What the hell was that?"

The expression smoothed from the Alpha's face then and he rested his forehead against Stiles', his hand finding the back of his neck. "A bird." Stiles frowned and scanned the sky. His temples tightened again and he turned back to Derek. The werewolf looked extremely pleased. "Your eyes are glowing."

"What?" Stiles startled and jerked out of Derek's grip in his surprise. Derek replaced his hand on Stiles' cheek and smiled.

"What happened," he asked, "before all of this?" He gestured toward the clearing and the remains of the fight.

"I was on my way to the grocery store and they stopped the Jeep. Oh, shit, my poor Jeep, dammit and my dad's going to ask all kinds of questions." He noticed Derek's expression of forced patience and left the topic of his Jeep behind. "Anyway," He then explained his most recent encounter with the other werewolves. "When they ran off, I knew exactly what they were doing and I knew that I couldn't let them do it, so I ran after them and saved your ass, again, and, I assume, the asses of the rest of the pack, again."

Derek ignored the final part. "You didn't stop to think about what was happening, did you? You got out of your Jeep and you followed them."

"I couldn't let them get to you," Stiles said quietly. The pieces were coming together, so Stiles' picture was still incomplete. Derek was nodding, though, his small smile still in place.

"That road is a mile and a half from this clearing. You got here in…less than three minutes? Have you ever done that before?" Stiles' eyes widened and he took a step back, staring at the man in front of him in disbelief.

"You're not saying…"

"Yes, I am."

"I was just running and I was determined to not let anything bad happen to you. After I realized that, I started running faster and it felt like something had pushed me into it. That-that was when I accepted the claim?" Stiles met Derek's eyes again and saw warmth that was paralleled only by the warmth he'd seen in his mom's eyes and what he occasionally saw in his dad.

Derek nodded again and Stiles grinned. With a laugh, he put his hands on the sides of Derek's face and kissed him, pulling himself closer to the wolf and smiling when Derek's arms made their way around his waist. Stiles thought he felt the connection Derek had been talking about and he was sure that he'd felt it earlier at his Jeep. It ran deep and he'd only just begun uncovering it, but it was strong already and Stiles was eager to sharpen it.

When breathing became a concern, Stiles pulled away and looked at his Mate with a small smile. Derek's expression was similar and Stiles felt as if he were exactly where he belonged.


	7. Chapter 7

Of course the situation merited a pack meeting, but this was one Stiles was looking forward to. He stood by the door in the "living room" of the house and practically vibrated with his anticipation of the reactions of the others. Scott looked at him strangely, obviously nervous because Stiles was already at the house and, historically, when Stiles was this eager about something, the results weren't always ideal. Stiles smiled at him as Scott sat down on the couch and wasn't shaken by Jackson's dirty look either.

"Dude," Scott hissed before Boyd or Erica showed up, "why weren't you at the store? Isaac and I were getting worried." Stiles saw that Scott really had been worried and he smiled at his best friend, past transgressions forgiven for now.

"You'll find out in the meeting. That's part of it," he promised, patting Scott on the shoulder.

"Did the other pack come after you again?" The urgency in Scott's tone resulted in Stiles feeling guilty about not telling his best friend earlier, but vindicated because Scott proved to Stiles' more skeptical side that he cared. Stiles wanted to spill, but he only patted his friend's shoulder again as Erica and Boyd entered the room.

Once the two were sitting and had noted that Stiles was present and unharmed, they looked to Derek in confusion because they could see no reason for the meeting. Everyone else did the same and Derek pushed off of the wall, ready to address the unspoken question.

"The other pack has been handled and I think it's safe to say that they aren't going to come back." There were a few alarmed, questioning looks following. "Yes, they showed up again and after their Alpha finds out about this final encounter, he'll give up his pursuit of Stiles."

The rest of the pack looked confused and they obviously noted a change of some kind. Stiles had expected them to notice something different, but he was quite satisfied that they didn't know what it was.

"How do you know?" Scott asked. More than curious, he looked suspicious and Stiles once again felt a little guilty, though he wasn't sure why. Still, he noted the emotion's presence.

"Because he was around during the final confrontation," Stiles answered. He went on to explain because Scott looked very confused. "I was stopped by them on the way to the store and, from that, a fight emerged. Derek was there. I was there. We fought them off and everything's good now."

Jackson scoffed. "What did you do?"

Stiles turned on him and glared. "I happen to have a very powerful weapon at my disposal that I would happily demonstrate for you." His eyes narrowed further and he felt the tension in his temples again. By now he knew that it meant his eyes flashed or completely changed color. When it happened, the color was dull, dark red, not quite as vibrant as the Alpha's simply because Stiles was human. While Derek called the pack together, Stiles had watched his eyes in the mirror, learning how to control the flash—because his eyes flashing in front of his dad was the last thing he needed—and marveling at the fact that it even happened.

The eyes of everyone in the room widened and Scott's flashed as he stood up. "What did you do to him?" he demanded of Derek.

Derek raised his eyebrows at Scott and his eyes flashed red. Stiles groaned and put himself between the two. "Nothing, Scott. He didn't do anything to me. Nothing bad anyway."

"What's that then?" Scott asked, gesturing toward Stiles' brown-again eyes.

"'That' is one of the benefits I get from being mated to an alpha werewolf," Stiles answered, giving Scott his best 'back down' look.

"What?" The question came from most of the pack, causing Derek and Stiles to sigh simultaneously.

"I accepted the claim that came from Derek's wolf."

"The wolf claims the only person who's able to be a werewolf's mate," Derek interjected.

"The basis for the claim involves a lot more than eligibility, though, and the wolf doesn't choose lightly because werewolves mate for life and it has to be right for all of the benefits to apply and for the mate bond to be as strong as it's meant to be. There has to be a connection and the claim is the wolf's confirmation that the person is the right one. The claim then has to be accepted by the other party and once it is the two are mated," Stiles explained in a rush. The blank looks persisted and Stiles managed to not roll his eyes.

"I accepted when I went off after the wolves that were going to kill Derek because apparently me being claimed protected me. Even if the wolves had dragged me off and their Alpha had bitten me, it wouldn't have done anything. To break the claim, they had to kill Derek—and if they'd done that they would have gotten all of us, so you're all welcome—and I realized that, so I went after them and helped run them off." It was strange to talk about such a personal thing that had happened so privately. Derek looked pleased and possibly proud, though, so Stiles didn't dwell on the feeling.

Erica looked interested. "What kind of benefits are you talking about?"

"I'm glad you asked," Stiles said, turning toward her happily. "As far as I know, increased speed, sharper hearing, the eye-flashing thing, and I'm stronger than before, not as strong as you guys, but stronger than regular humans." She nodded, looking impressed.

"What are you going to do about your dad?" Isaac asked and Scott looked just as interested in the answer. Stiles' enthusiasm faded a little and he bit his lip because he'd thought about that obstacle and knew what he had to do.

"I'm going to have to tell him soon and hopefully he won't find out before I do." It wouldn't be the easiest thing he'd ever do, but Stiles was sure that he was able to convince his dad that this new, permanent development in his existence wasn't a bad thing and that the four year age difference wasn't a problem. He'd also have to explain everything and disappoint him with the knowledge that Stiles had been lying to him for almost a whole year. His dad wouldn't be happy about it, but Stiles was confident that he would accept everything eventually. "He's not going to like it, but he deserves to know, and I'm sure the fact that we've made it alive this long will convince him that it's not the worst thing that could happen to me."

Scott looked dubious—and he had right because he knew Sheriff Stilinski better than the others in the room—but it appeared that he was rounding on acceptance of the reality in which his best friend was mated to his Alpha. He exchanged a look with Stiles to inform him and Stiles nodded in appreciation, allowing a smile onto his face at his friend's unnecessary-but-welcome approval.

Derek was behind him then and he rested a hand on Stiles' shoulder. The teenager felt his smile grow to accompany the warmth in his chest. "And that ends the pack meeting. You're all free, and strongly encouraged, to leave now," Stiles said brightly.

Everyone grudgingly got up and left and Stiles smiled as he watched his extended family get into vehicles and pull away from the house. When the rest of the pack was out of both Stiles' and Derek's hearing ranges, the Alpha turned the teenager toward him. "Are you sure that your dad isn't going to be a problem?"

"Pff, don't worry about him. I'll handle all of that, hopefully when you're not around and he doesn't have a gun strapped to his belt." A flicker of worry flashed through Derek's expression and Stiles sighed, putting his hands on his Mate's shoulders. "He's not going to be a problem, I promise." Something in his expression must have been convincing because the tension in Derek's body vanished and he leaned into Stiles, resting his forehead against the human's.

"Alright, I trust you."

The simple statement widened Stiles' eyes in shock and put a smile on his face, making him lean away from the Alpha to gape. Once the words sunk in completely, he lunged at Derek, putting his arms around the werewolf's neck and kissing him, feeling an overwhelming, expanding feeling in his chest.

"I love you," Derek whispered when Stiles was breathing.

Stiles simply smiled, eyes still closed, and whispered back, "I love you, too Sourwolf."

**Thanks again, everyone, for all of the support in its various forms. =) This_ is_ the end of the story, but keep watch because I have some more in the works. I'm glad you guys have liked this one so much.**


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